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cup: anonymous, invisible. Just the way he liked it. The meeting continued; there were all kinds of scribblings on the big white boards which dominated the podium. Scientists were arguing; sometimes it got heated. Mathematical formulas were all over those boards.

For a moment, while holding his broom, he stopped and stared at the board, then continued his work. As he left the room, whoever was conducting the meeting called out, "I think we've had enough for tonight. We'll continue tomorrow morning, 10 AM."

That night at home, Bob Smith re-created one of the formulas. If you remember, he had a photographic memory. It didn't take more than fifteen minutes for him to find where the scientists' error was.

The next morning, he was due at work at 8 AM, he arrived at 7:15. In the same auditorium where the scientists were arguing last night, he wrote the corrected formula on one of the clean white boards. It had been simple. Bob changed the ≥ to ≤.

Not one scientist took credit for the work, but they were in agreement. It was correct, and would make the space journey a success. They congratulated each other. Bob Smith emptied the trash and smiled to himself.

Two months later, there was a similar problem. The scientists were stymied. When they left for the night, along with a colleague, Mary Highsmith, Bob cleaned up. "They certainly make a mess," she proclaimed. Pizza boxes, with half eaten slices were scattered around the room; paper plates with the bones from wings were everywhere, and it seemed as if every one of those scientists had failed to finish their coffee or their cokes.

"They're brilliant, but they're slobs," Bob agreed, as he dumped a pizza box into his trash barrel. At the same time, he was staring at a white board. Without giving it much thought, he took an eraser and changed one of the symbols on the white board to π squared.

Mary and Bob finished their work, dumped the trash and then took their own coffee break. "I saw what you did on that white board. π squared was brilliant. How did you know?" Mary asked.

Bob Smith looked at her. Mary Highsmith was a fifty-four-year-old black woman with thick glasses and some grey in her hair. In her janitorial uniform it was difficult to discern her body, but Bob observed that she was long-legged. "I-I-I'm not sure what you mean?"

"Come on, Bob, no janitor could have figured that out. Who are you?"

"Mary, I'd ask you the same question. Who are you, and how did you know what I was doing?"

"Bob, I don't think anyone's around, but you never know. The walls may have ears. Why don't we meet at my apartment after work?" She wrote her address on a paper napkin. "We can discuss it privately. I'm curious, who are you?"

On his way home to shower and change, Bob Smith thought about what Mary said. He'd been careless; correcting that formula in front of her. Was it time to disappear again? "Why was I so stupid? Why didn't those NASA scientists see the problem? It was right there; right before their eyes. More than that, how did Mary know? She wasn't just a janitor; he was certain of that.

She answered the door immediately. Now, she was wearing a skirt and blouse; her hair neat, and her glasses gone. "Come in Bob, or is it Eliot?"

He was shocked. "How-how did you know?'

"It wasn't hard. I worked for ten years at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in California. I read your dissertation. There aren't a dozen people in the world who could make that correction and maybe two or three who could do it as quickly."

Eliot blushed. "Who are you?"

She reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Liz Redfort; Dr. Elizabeth Redfort, burnt out astrophysicist. Eliot, did you get burnt out, too?"

"Mary, I mean Liz, the stress was too much. People expected me to have the answer to everything. I'm content just pushing a broom."

She hadn't let go of his hand. "Same with me. Eliot, it's been ages since I've been able to relieve the stress I feel. How do you feel about black pussy?"

Dr. Elizabeth Redfort didn't wait for an answer. She dragged Eliot to her bedroom. Over the next three days, they relieved each other's stress. There was fucking: she got on top and bounced relentlessly on his huge cock. Eliot got on top, "pound it in there, Eliot. Bang my pussy hard. It's been too long; fuck me."

Liz sucked, then sucked some more. She took his entire eight-plus inches down her throat. To be honest, if Eliot had a ten-inch cock, she could have handled it, easy-peasy. Her lips slid up and down that cock just as her pussy had when she was riding him.

Remember that Eliot had a thing for the taste of black pussy. Dr. Redfort was surprised the following morning when he dragged her out of bed to a living room couch where he got on his knees and spread her legs. "Oh Eliot, my old pussy, really?"

"Really."

"I have to admit, nothing relieves my stress more than having my pussy eaten."

Eliot Rascher made her morning stress-free. Her orgasms were like nothing she'd had since Eliot was in diapers and they were numerous.

There was more fucking, more sucking, more eating. A lot more eating. Liz was overjoyed that this young man had a talent for eating pussy. EJ was overjoyed that Liz had a tasty black pussy.

Dr. Elizabeth Redfort was fifty-four and Eliot Rascher twenty-six. They didn't have much in common except their intellects and their insatiable sexual appetites. They rarely mentioned race except in moments of passion, "Eliot, show me again how much you love eating my black pussy." Or "Eliot, I'm cumming again, Keep eating my black pussy."

Their supervisor was displeased when they both called in sick, but of course she had no reason to believe that there was anything going on between the two.

They missed most of the week. His cock was worn out. So was her pussy. His tongue was worn out. Her knees were sore and her lips tender.

The HR Director started to have her suspicions when both quit at the same time. She asked Human Resources to interview them to see if she'd done anything wrong. "They're both excellent workers; I hate losing them. Janitors with their work ethic aren't easy to find."

Human Resources was shocked when Dr. Eliot Rascher and Dr. Elizabeth Redfort showed up for their exit interviews professionally dressed, with their updated and complete resumes in hand; using their real names. They were interviewed individually.

In these private meetings, they told HR similar stories: too much stress; burn out.

The HR Director, Dr. Hannah Sherman, herself a scientist of some renown, came up with a solution.

The two would continuing working under their aliases, and only she, the HR Director would know their true identities, but "when we have a sticky problem, I'll call on you in private to help solve it."

They were ecstatic. "Eliot, I mean Bob, let's celebrate," Liz said when they were alone.

"Okay, I'll pick up some wine. Or do you prefer Bourbon or Scotch?"

She snuggled close to him, "I'd love a long, thick, young cock with lots of delicious cum and a champagne chaser."

"What would you think if I poured some of that champagne on your pussy and licked it all up?"

"Eliot, buy a magnum of champagne."

TO BE CONTINUED

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